On The Rails
by Silenthunder
Summary: A bunch of one-shots featuring various characters. Some stories are connected and others aren't, some are based off scenes from the musical and others are my own imagination.
1. At The Back of the Freight Train

At first, it was a normal morning for the freight train in England. The cars were being hitched and were readying themselves for yet another round of carrying gravel, arrogate, and all other manner of stone. They talked and joked with each other, eager to begin moving. This was when they were happiest - when they were doing what they were made for.

Yes, everything was normal. Except for one thing.

A high-pitched whistle caught their attention, and they turned to see a red caboose rolling up to the train yard. He stopped a few feet away from the track and waved to them.

The freight cars glanced at each other before one with dark brown hair and brown eyes unhitched and made his way over to the newcomer. The blond caboose gave him a friendly smile. "Hi there."

"Hello. Listen, I don't want to sound impolite, but why are you here? The stationmistress doesn't allow newcomers to be near her trains unless she knows them. Do you have a clearance pass?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I know the stationmistress, and I'm one of Control's rolling stock."

"Control? You mean The Control who also owns the diesel champion?"

"That's him. Anyway, I thought I'd take a holiday by coming here."

"I thought so. You're from America, aren't you?"

"Right, first time."

"So why are you here? Have you come to watch?"

"Actually, I'd like to help. I asked the stationmistress, and she said it's alright as long as you all are okay with it. And it would be fun to work with new freights."

The British car's face was doubtful. "It would look unusual… But I'll ask the others and see what they think." He turned and rolled away to speak with his brethren.

C.B. was finding it hard to keep the eagerness from his blue eyes. It had been easy to disguise himself: fresh paint over his old station logos along with a little white and red face paint had done the trick. Now the first part of his game hinged upon one decision, and he knew all too well how much help a freight train usually needed. It would all fall into line.

The car came back from the discussion and nodded at him. "We're fine with it. You can join us. Just hitch behind me at the back, and we'll be set."

C.B. gave a salute. "Affirmative."

The car chuckled. "You're a strange one, but no matter. Come on, let's get positioned." C.B. obediently grabbed his couplers, and they rolled over to the freight line where his guide connected himself to the others. Once that was done, there was a moment of silence before the British car remarked, "You never told me your name."

"Just call me Caboose. A lot of trains do. What's your name?"

"Cole, C-O-L-E."

"I've never seen a train like you before."

"You don't have mineral cars in America?"

"Nope. What do you carry?"

"Mine products, to put it simply. It gets me dirty, but it's worth it."

Their conversation was ended by a female voice emmiting from a speaker, young but still authoritive. _Like Control_, C.B. thought. _It wouldn't surprise me if they were related._

"This is the stationmistress! You all ready? Good. Go!"

"Yes, ma'am!" the train line replied. They all turned back to face forward and began moving, chanting as they did. The slow chugging of their wheels provided the beat. C.B. was a little surprised to hear them saying the same mantra of the freight cars at Control's yard: "Freight...is great!" _I guess it's more popular than I thought._

As the cars picked up speed, C.B. glanced down at Cole's rear wheels. There were the brakes, just waiting. Better to wait, though, and see what type they were before he tried anything.

His chance came around noon, when the line stopped to take a brief rest. Everyone unhitched and went to refresh themselves with water and oil. Cole wiped his brow as he sat beside C.B. "Whew! It's like having a steamer's firebox in your face out here. Well, Caboose, how are you holding up?"

"I'm doing fine."

"You're much lighter than I thought. It gives me a nice break."

"You're welcome. Oh, by the way, I noticed your brakes at one point. They look a little unusual."

"You're right. That's the bad thing about being a mineral car. I can't use them myself."

_So someone has to turn them on for you,_ C.B. thought. _Interesting. That'll be useful._ He kept his face passive as his mind raced, only half-listening. Cole didn't mind his silent audience, though, as he talked enough for the both of them.

Nothing came to him during the break, however, and so he hitched up with the freight line again, chanting and chatting with Cole and the others as if he really was the helpful caboose everyone believed him to be. Meanwhile he kept his ears open to the orders and conversations of the human employees, who seemingly didn't know the trains could hear them. They didn't react to anything the rolling stock said either. Cole said it was stupidity, but C.B. suspected that maybe the workers were just different from Control and the stationmistress.

* * *

><p>It was soon the last part of the freight line's round, and C.B. was having a hard time keeping his annoyance and restlessness under control. The itch was becoming unbearable. He was glad Cole had not spoken to him yet. Any reply would reveal his straining patience and probably blow his cover. After another fifteen minutes he became desperate, and he leaned his head out to see if there was anything ahead that he could use. And it was then that a warning shout came from one of the employees.<p>

"Watch out, fellas! Hairpin on the horizon!"

C.B. knew all too well what the human meant, and his eyes danced with glee. Without wasting time to see how close they were, the short red car eased back into a relaxed position as he hung loosely onto Cole's couplers, shifting his weight to let gravity pull on him more forcefully.

Cole looked back over his shoulder to see why C.B. was suddenly heavy, and his eyes narrowed. "What do you think you're doing, Caboose? We're almost at the station. We just have a tricky spot ahead, and if you don't stop that, you'll derail!"

C.B. merely winked at him. "_I _won't."

"This isn't funny, Caboose-"

Another shout from a human interrupted him. "Hairpin dead ahead! Slow down!"

C.B. finally let his facade drop, chuckling at Cole's widening eyes as the red car saluted him with a free hand. "Good luck," he whispered.

And then he let go.

Cole's head whipped around to stare in horror at the rapidly approaching sharp curve in the track. Unable to break, he shot forward and rammed violently into the car ahead of him, which in turn hit the car before it. Some cars in the front and middle tried to unhitch as they realized the impending disaster, but their added speed and the situation of being trapped between cars made this effort almost impossible. It was useless to try anyway. The momentum carried them straight off the curve and into a derailment. For Cole, it was all a blur. He felt himself come off the track, heard the shouts and screams of both human and train, and slammed onto the ground with enough force to knock him out.

* * *

><p>When he finally came to, it was slow. He cracked his eyes open, then instantly shut them again at the light. Sound came pouring into his ears, all mixed and indistinguishable for a few minutes. He was aware of a numbness that was oddly comforting, and a haziness in his mind that blocked a sense that something had gone horribly wrong. Something was prodding him, and he wished it would stop.<p>

"Say something, would you?" a female voice asked.

_Leave me alone..._

"Cole!"

Hearing his name suddenly brought back his awareness, and he snapped out of his trance. He hissed through gritted teeth as pain flooded through his frame, coming to a climax in his head. Through blurry eyes he made out a medical car with short red hair kneeling over him, looking relieved that he'd come to. "Cole?" she repeated.

It took a minute before a memory reminded him that she was a friend of his. "Maddie? What...what happened?" He winced at the pain in his jaw. Even talking hurt.

"Sshh, lie still. You were in a derailment, but you can get fixed. I know how you feel, but do you think you can tell me how it happened?"

He stared blankly back at her for a few moments. And then he remembered.

"A caboose..." he whispered.

"What did you say?" she asked, leaning in.

"A red caboose... He made us speed up..."

"Do you know his name?"

Cole was about to answer, and then realized that he had only ever called the traitor what the red car had said to call him - only the type of rolling stock that he was. That wasn't helpful enough. He wearily closed his eyes. "No. I don't know his name. He was American, one of The Control's trains..."

"Then we'll let him know about it. No use asking the humans, they don't know we're alive. Don't worry about it, Cole. Wherever this caboose is, he can't get very far."

"I hope you're right, Maddie. But I doubt it..."


	2. Face Both Ways

The beeping radio at C.B's belt drove away his fond three-year-old memory. It was specially made so that it picked up any radio transmissions in the train yard from two to five miles away. Most of them came from Control – not that the Boss needed to do much to get everyone's attention.

And Control was sure on a roll tonight as he gave out his orders and made sure preperations for the yearly train race were in order. Only yesterday they had had a new visitor who had given the competition a whole new level of intensity, making the current champion determined enough to give C.B. a few "accidents" to cause as a racing partner. And now someone wanted to use him again, it seemed. And he had a good idea who it was, seeing as how his radio could pick up electrical sound waves quite easily.

Checking that the device's volume controller was satisfactory, he let out an experimental "Hello?" Static greeted him, but he could pick up a voice trying to make itself heard. He adjusted the antenna until the static disappeared, and tried again. "Hello? This is C.B."

"The Red Caboose?"

"That's me. And you're Electra, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes. I'd like to speak with you. About the third race. I've heard you are quite helpful and always eager to please."

"You heard correctly. I'm guessing you want my assistance?"

"Exactly. I was hoping you could help me to, say, gain the upper hand. I can't risk my components doing anything, if you know what I mean."

The small freight car nodded even though there was no one to see it. He was all too familiar with how easily connections between one name and another could be made in the criminal business. "Of course. Don't worry about the competition, I'll help. I'm at the east end of the yard. Come see me here, and I'll tell you a little plan I got in mind."

"But why not now?"

He rolled his eyes at the slight whine in the electric's voice. "I can't tell you over the air. You never know who could be listening."

"Alright. I'm coming. Don't leave or tell anyone about this, understand, Caboose?"

"I copy. Ten-three."

Barely had C.B. tucked the radio back in his belt when another voice snapped out his name from behind. He whirled around to see Control's favorite engine rolling up to meet him with his gang members close behind. C.B. prayed that his conversation had not been overheard.

"Hi, champ," he said, letting his mouth curve into a friendly smile. "What's up?"

The diesel engine's eyes were full of suspicion. "Who were you just talking to? Don't ask who; I saw you putting that radio away."

"It was Electra."

Greaseball's eyes grew darker. "Oh yeah? And what did he want with you?"

C.B. shrugged. "He just wanted to know where you were. He didn't sound very happy."

"Is that so?" The bigger engine came closer, his hands curling into fists.

C.B. backed away, knowing he was no match for the muscular racer. "I didn't tell him anything, I swear!"

Greaseball stopped, scrutinizing him for a moment. "You better not have. If that floppy disk thinks he can challenge me he's going down. And so will you if you don't think carefully about which side you're on. Remember that." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and rolled away, his gang giving C.B. threatening glances as they went.

While glad that he had avoided a painful interrogation, C.B. didn't have much time to dwell on his relief. Only two minutes later he heard the sounds of multiple rolling stock coming his way from the opposite direction. It was, of course, Electra, with his components unfortunately hitched behind him. Although C.B. had wanted to speak with the superstar-challenger alone, he decided to make the best of it and turned his lips upward once more.

"Alright, Caboose," Electra said as they came up to him and his followers disconnected. C.B. hated the way the flashy newcomer deliberately didn't call him by his real name, obviously believing the other engine was beneath him. "You had me come all the way out here, so your idea had better be good. Now, what is this oh-so-secret plan of yours?"

C.B. looked both ways before coming close and lowering his voice. "I'm gonna wipe out Rusty."

The components stared at him, confused. Their master's voice was amused as he asked, "You, a simple caboose, can _crash _that steam train? But I heard you were going to be his racing partner for the third Heat."

"That doesn't mean I'm rooting for him. Believe me, I can do it!"

Electra raised an eyebrow, still smirking. "I doubt there's anything you say that can convince me that you would willingly do such a thing."

C.B. wanted to wipe that expression off the AC train's face, but he knew he had to keep his cool. He had predicted his capability would be questioned, and he had decided to make the ultimate gamble. And now the time had come. C.B. let his friendly smile transform into a wicked grin. "I may play the willing servant, but there's a criminal's reputation to keep up."

There was shocked silence for a moment as everyone stared in horror. "What have you done?" Electra finally asked, his face and tone changed to one of wariness and slight awe.

C.B. laughed then, a high-pitched cackle that made the components shudder. "What have I done? I've crashed more trains then you can count. I crossed the River Kwai and robbed the good Ol' 97. Engines take me on a run, and they suddenly lose their braking controls. No one's ever caught me, because I make sure no one does, see?"

"I do." There was silence as Electra thought deeply about this new piece of information. C.B.'s mind was laying out backup plans in case this didn't work out. But he was sure that his client's obvious arrogance and desperation to win would be favorable, and therefore wasn't surprised when Electra finally nodded as he finished his silent musings. "There's one problem. You say you're good at speeding trains up, but can you slow them down as well?"

"Of course I can!" Still seeing a slight disinterest in the electric's eyes, he played his ace card. "And hey, if you aren't satisfied with Rusty...I could add Greaseball to the plan. If you keep the juice down about my secret."

He had Electra's undivided attention now, and the engine smiled at him as he shook his hand. "It's a deal. Rusty first, then Greaseball."

"Affirmitive."

Electra motioned to his components, and they moved to take their places behind him again. Just when C.B. was going to turn and leave, Electra stopped him. "Just one question, Caboose. Why do you want to help me? I thought you support diesel."

He turned back to answer with the most flattering reply he could think of. "I did. But then you came, and I realized the potential you have. I'd rather be on the winning side."

Electra nodded, but he wasn't completely satisfied. "Now that I know your secret, you'd better not think of crossing me, or you'll know how it feels to be struck by lightning, understand? I'll be watching you, Caboose. Make sure you do this right, or else. You're on my side, so stick to it."

C.B. kept his face casual, waiting until he was sure he was alone before allowing himself another twisted smile. He would much rather prefer manipulating the two engines to fight and possibly destroy each other, truth be told, but this would work just as well, as long as nobody suspected him.

"Don't count on loyalty, Electra. I'm not on your side or anyone else's," he muttered scornfully. "I'm on mine!" He laughed again, eyes dark with malice. Then he worked on composing himself and headed for the middle of the yard where the racetracks were to find Rusty. It was time for the second half of this game to begin.


	3. Switch Your Allegiance

No one was prepared when the lights brightening up the trainyard suddenly started to flicker on and off randomly. It scared Dustin, especially when he saw the National Engines, who were all mostly powered by electricity, suddenly stop working. They stood still, somehow having lost their ability to move, but their eyes reflected the same fear and confusion of everyone else. Then the lights went out completely. There were a few gasps of surprise and yelps, then silence.

After a few minutes, he heard a loud clicking sound. Dustin almost jumped as a small light suddenly appeared and moved around in the air, illuminating Rusty's concerned face. "Is everyone alright?" the steam engine asked.

"I think so," Ashley replied. "The National visitors can't move, though."

"Let me get the emergency lights on, and then we can see to them."

After finally finding the right control box and arranging the wires correctly, Rusty turned on the backup lights that shone a dull red color upon the scene. Dustin now saw that the bobbing light had been coming from a small headlight that was built into Rusty, and he used it now as they looked the foreign racers over.

"It's odd," C.B. said as he inspected them. "You all just froze up. It's gotta be the blackout that did it, but how did that happen?"

"No idea," Buffy said. "It would be nice if we had a repair truck."

Before anyone could say anything else, there came a new surprise. The lights came back on all at once, and the Nationals found they could move again. At the same time, the big gated entrance to the railyard swung open as if on its own. A person was standing in the entryway, tall and imposing. There was a pause before the newcomer rolled toward the others, stopping a few feet away from the group. He was a silver and red car of some kind with a very pale face and serious expression, who had the air of someone formidable and always alert. Dustin noticed that he carried an assortment of weaponry. Frightened, the big hopper backed away to hide behind Flat-Top in the middle of the group, certain that something horrible was about to happen. After a few moments of silent staring, Pearl finally worked up the courage to take a few cautious steps forward.

"Halt!" the strange man shouted, and Pearl obeyed at his authoritative tone, stopping for a moment before going back to the group's edge. The man cast his cold gaze over the ones watching him before continuing. "I am Krupp, Electra's armaments truck."

The eldest Rocky car rolled forward a little, his arms folded as he glared at Krupp with suspicion and dislike, a challenge in his voice. "Who's Electra?"

The truck gave him a disdainful glance. "_We_ ask the questions!"

_We?_ Dustin thought, and then he saw that there were several more strangers behind Krupp. _They must have gathered while we were distracted._

A female came forward, her status as a repair truck indicated by the large red crosses painted onto her front and sides. Dark blue and white was her color scheme, and like Krupp, she also had a pale face. Her eyelids were decorated by broad streaks of light blue eye-shadow. "I am Wrench, Electra's repair truck," she announced, before stepping off to the side.

"This Electra must be rich to have his own repair truck," the impressed Dustin hurriedly whispered to Flat-Top.

"More likely he's unreliable if he needs one. He must not be very tough," his friend replied with a chuckle, but Dustin noticed it was a nervous one, which was unusual for the normally tough-acting brick truck.

Next was a thin man with black and red colors, a softer expression, and a smooth voice, who introduced himself as "Purse, Electra's money truck." He confirmed Dustin's suspicions of Electra's wealth, and even suggested that the railyard inhabitants might "switch allegiance to Electra." This was followed by a few eye-rolls and glares that the money truck ignored as he also moved to the side.

A freezer truck and a dynamite truck were next. Blue-black and white Volta, cold yet regal in posture and tone, introduced herself along with red-and-white Joule, a young woman whose voice and body were fidgety with suppressed energy.

After they had finished, there was an awkward silence that was broken, surprisingly, by Flat-Top. The brick truck stayed where he was, but raised his voice as he spoke in a sneering tone, doing his best to hide his own uneasiness. "Well, I see all of you weirdoes, but you haven't introduced this Electra guy. Where is he?"

The trucks didn't look ruffled by the insult; rather, they seemed eager. Volta even showed her almost too-white teeth in a brief smile. "Electra is cool."

"Electra is rich," Purse said.

"Electra is powerful," Krupp said.

"Electra is hot," Joule almost shouted.

"But _where is_ he?" C.B. asked, annoyed with the delay.

Dustin remained silent, wishing and wishing that this was just a dream. Everything about these trucks made him nervous – their almost-white skin, their unnaturally red lips. But what was worse was their voices; all of them spoke with emotion, but it seemed forced somehow, as if they were trying to overcome the monotone quality that punctuated each word. What scared him most of all were their eyes – holding life, and yet distant, not the distance of a daydreamer, but rather of a blankness and an empty void, as if they were not fully themselves.

He was so wrapped up in his worries that he almost didn't hear the one called Krupp say something odd, a command or cue of sorts that was directed to the one these trucks proclaimed, and then without warning a red light beamed out of the distance beyond the gate. Dustin shielded his eyes from the sudden light that only seemed to grow in intensity along with a loud buzzing hum. Then there was a flash as the buzzing stopped simultaneously, and Dustin cautiously lifted his hand away. What he saw made his mouth drop open.

It was a tall engine with red-and-blue colors and matching hair. He had the oddest looking hairstyle that anyone had ever seen, hair that stood up stiffly in a high-arching line that curved down the otherwise bald scalp. The engine seemed to radiate some sort of energy that Dustin could swear made him look like he was glowing.

The slow realization of what the energy was shocked the big hopper, as well as Dinah standing nearby. "A _pure electric_ engine," she whispered. Those who heard her passed the information in whispers to their companions, until everyone was once again amazed, even the Nationals. No one in the railyard ever relied on electricity entirely for power – even the Nationals only relied on electricity in part.

The electric's eyes were closed as he stood motionless before them, his followers on either side. Joule grinned at the awed watchers. "Well, now you know – this is our Master, Electra."

"Electra..." Volta murmured, gazing at the red-and blue newcomer with something that seemed like adoration.

Electra's closed eyes suddenly snapped open. He gave them a smile, and Dustin noted that it wasn't a cruel smile, but it wasn't a friendly smile either. He couldn't tell what emotion was there, in fact. The only comforting thing was that there was no blankness in his eyes as he studied the staring rolling stock.

"Electra!" the trucks cried simultaneously, bowing to him.

Electra nodded at them before addressing the other trains. "Well, you've met my components. You've never seen an engine like me before, have you? I thought not."

"Pourquoi venez-vous ici?" Bobo asked.

Electra turned to him, and Dustin was shocked to hear Electra's voice pitch change to become deeper and more accented as he answered the French racer in his native language. "Je suis ici pour la course, pour montrer que l'électricité ne est le meilleur."

He turned back to face the main body of stunned locomotives. "Well, as I told him, I'm here to race. You'll soon all see that electricity..." – he held a hand up to the sky, and without warning, a flurry of sparks seemed to come out of his palm, making the watchers jump back, startled – "...is really the best type of power." He started rolling forward as he continued. "I can run on Alternating Current or Direct Current, I can wipe all your information from my memory as easily as going down a track. It all depends on what the situation calls for..." He stopped and winked at the coaches, his voice low and silky. "My manufactures did call me 'The Engine of the Future', after all."

The coaches unwittingly sighed adoringly at this statement, and as Electra stepped back away from them, one stepped forward. It was Pearl. He did not seem surprised; rather, he smiled down at her as she came close to stare up at him. "Well, hello there," he said in an eloquent tone. "And who might you be?"

"Pearl," she answered in a shy, yet excited voice.

"I see you want to feel the power of electricity. Then come closer." He held out an inviting hand. "Dance with me."

Pearl reached out and took his hand, and at the touch a shudder went through her whole body before she relaxed and danced. Rather, it was Electra who was making her dance, as they soon noticed. With his other hand he made motions in the air that she followed with grace. Dustin didn't know what to think. Pearl was always one of the first people, if not the very first, to greet new arrivals to the trainyard - even if they were just visitors. But she wouldn't try to be this familiar so soon. She would always try to get to know them first. And this odd and partially controlled movement didn't make sense. What was going on?

All of a sudden, Dustin found himself rolling forward, and he didn't remember deciding to move. He tried to brake, not wanting to crash into someone, but for some reason his uneasiness was quickly vanishing and he let the brakes be. He saw he wasn't alone - the whole crowd was moving in the same direction. He'd lost sight of Rusty, but that didn't seem to matter as a pleasant lightheadness blanketed his mind. A strange tingling began in his legs and arms as he drew nearer to the AC/DC engine. Electra smiled that same odd smile from before and held out his hands to them all in a welcoming gesture. "Now, come!"

What followed was a blur. All Dustin remembered was hitching to someone before being pulled almost right beside Electra, and circling, the rhythmic circling, saying words no one would remember as pure bliss ran through him and on to those connected to him, an energy that was completely new but exciting and powerful, making him feel more alive then he could last remember. Time had no meaning as he was filled with adoration and devotion for the engine who was going to win this race, and the next, and all the races in the world, because electricity would never fail...

He also dimly recalled finally rolling away from Electra with the others, still smiling in his daze. Whatever had happened, he was eager to experience it again, maybe even forever if it was possible–

The hailing shout of Greaseball snapped him out his trance, and while the always-fawning coaches were quickly surrounding the diesel engine, Dustin's wandering eyes suddenly found Rusty's, and their gazes met. Rusty obviously hadn't been among the others, but he was panting and trembling, as though a tiring amount of strength had just been used. Rusty's accusing eyes went to Electra and back again. Dustin suddenly realized that Rusty had been fighting the pull, and he gave him a questioning look. Why had the steam train resisted such peace?

He looked back at Electra, now abandoned by Wrench, Joule and Volta, who were doing their best to be noticed by the diesel champion. The red-and-blue engine's eyes were full of burning anger, his suaveness gone, as he stood there humiliated before everyone by his suddenly disloyal components. The level of dark intensity in his face sent a shiver down Dustin's spine, and it was then that he remembered that electricity could also be dangerous without caution.

Guilt tugged at him also, mixed with wistfulness. He somehow recalled being sure that switching his allegiance would be the right thing to do... But he was on the side of the steamers. Wasn't he? The spell of the new wrestled with his familiarity of the old. He had hardly even seen Electra, and yet he already wanted to follow his lead.

_Poppa wouldn't like it_, he thought, and the doubt increased. The old long-ago champion had always advised against following the latest trend right away, and Dustin had mostly managed to remain neutral to many of the arguments over which power-fuel was better. But how could Poppa understand what he had just experienced, what influence the magnet had? He wondered how many others were questioning themselves as well. A quick glance around confirmed his fears – those who weren't watching the champion all looked conflicted, even those who always made their favorite fuel quite plain to anyone who would listen.

The doubt didn't leave even as the girls finally stopped gushing and the diesel turned his attention to the latest race entry. Even as the challenges began and Rusty declared his own right to race. (If only Poppa could have seen the fire in his student's eyes as he outshouted the Nationals, Greaseball, and Electra combined!) Even after Control restored order and Dustin was finally able to leave the scene after arguing once again with those stubborn coaches. Even with that, the internal battle continued, the tempting bliss of the magnet field and the time-tried durability of steam power. He refrained from telling anyone about his feelings. He wanted to keep them private, at least until he was sure about his true alligence.

He desperately sought for an answer as the day ended. He would do anything to put his heart to rest. He would do anything to show others he was not as shy as he acted, anything to prove himself to the world and figure out where his own loyalties lied.

He would even be a racing partner, if that's what it took.


End file.
